


Laicization

by GameofTywinning



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV), The Tournament (2009)
Genre: Anyelle, F/M, RSS, Rumbelle Secret Santa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-20
Updated: 2015-12-20
Packaged: 2018-05-07 22:19:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5472626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GameofTywinning/pseuds/GameofTywinning
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Father Joesph MacAvoy is getting fired for his alcoholism.  The solution?  To get plastered at the local pub at his usual time, that is- unless a certain librarian is in the way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Laicization

**Author's Note:**

  * For [griseldalafey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/griseldalafey/gifts).



“Did you hear me?” 

The voice was harsh, scraping against Father MacAvoy’s ears. He could hear it, but only barely. All sound entering his ear was laced with a high pitched frequency. 

MacAvoy swallowed, his mouth was like sandpaper. He’d need a drink after this 

“I said did you hear me, MacAvoy?” 

MacAvoy blinks. Once. Twice. Three times. Father Matthew is in focus, but the world is fuzzed around him. Father Matthew would be wanting an answer. 

“Aye.” He managed to choke out, the words stuck to the back of his throat. Father Matthew looked less than impressed. Which was the usual for him, but MacAvoy knew the face staring down at him was done. There would be no talking his way out of this one. 

How had he managed to talk his way to this point?

He wasn’t charming. The drink made him ill spoken. The world had all but accelerated around him, while his thoughts and his life and his soul just rooted him against the current that was the world he found himself in. 

Sad for a priest who struck lucky in the small town of Storybrooke.

Most priests dream of towns like this. Small towns, quaint towns. Towns that are pleasantly sleepy, the few closet skeletons always neatly tucked away. Father MacAvoy should have counted his blessings and settled in for the long haul. 

He counted the bottoms of whiskey glasses instead. 

His tongue was rooted to the roof of his mouth. It felt swollen. Unspoken pleas filling it, but his fear sucked those pleas dry leaving him thirsty and tired. 

His head was throbbing. 

“You don’t have anything to say for yourself?” 

An opening. He could beg, like he always did. Beg for forgiveness. Prostrate himself before the man and his lord. He couldn’t speak though, not today. 

MacAvoy was beyond begging. 

“You’re a mess MacAvoy. And you have no place leading these people.” 

Well, can’t argue with that.

So he wouldn’t. 

Not that this was a step forward for him. A better man would beg and ask for forgiveness again. 

A better man wouldn’t even be in this mess. 

A better man would love the lord with all his heart, mind, and soul. 

A better-

“You’re done here.” 

MacAvoy’s thoughts splintered. He was done. Like the bile in his stomach his thoughts began to swirl, making his stomach roll and his brain spin. 

The collar around his throat was tight. He’d need to remove it, he needed to breathe. He wasn’t breathing. 

Father Matthew had left the room. 

It was difficult to tell when time was passing irregularly he should have been going over notes for Sunday’s homily and instead he was here in his office that was now just an office no longer his and the walls were small smaller than he remembered them being but he did recall that they were always small but just not this small and there was a bottle of whiskey behind the shelf but not anymore he’d drank that days ago but maybe it was weeks but probably hours and his throat was so dry and his brain was numb and he should care because his entire livelihood was gone and God-

Even God had given up on him. 

MacAvoy sucked in a sob. That was a sobering thought.

The path to the pub was simple. You would leave the church and walk down the street. The first obstacle was the mayor’s office. 

She stood outside with her son while he played on the sidewalk. Like clockwork, she called him as he stalked by. 

The second was Archie’s office, where he was always reminded that his door was open. 

MacAvoy acknowledges the sentiment but moves past. 

The third was Granny’s Diner where his congregation would pass judgement on him. 

Their glares come over the holiday hot chocolate special. 

Then there was the library, where she worked. 

MacAvoy turned and faced the worn building.

She was on the ladder outside the library, Christmas lights neatly coiled around her arm while reaching up on her tip toes.

He had meant to slip past her undetected, he didn’t want her to see his shame as he stumbled past her and into The Rabbithole.

He brushes past the ladder. He’s almost successful, she won’t even notice him. 

Her yell snaps this thought away. 

She is falling, he didn’t brush past, he knocked straight into. He now feels where the ladder impacted his side. Where his side impacted the ladder. 

He’s never moved so quickly in his life. 

His arms opened. 

She came crashing into them. 

The ladder fell to the ground. 

He fell on his arse beside it. 

She was sitting neatly on him, her face still contorted from the fall. Her mouth was open, cheeks flush from the cold air. 

He could feel his burning in response. 

She stared at him, those blue eyes bore straight into his and he knew that she knew his shame. Where he was going, what he’d been doing, that the collar around his neck was a lie. She wasn’t even a member of his church but he knew she knew and he should apologize but the words were stuck-

“Joseph!” Her accent rolled out his name, his eyes fluttered shut. She began to laugh. 

“Joseph, I’m so sorry. I can be such a klutz. They shouldn’t let me near ladders, but someone has to decorate for the holidays and I can’t very well make Mrs. Potts do it in her age and- are you alright Joseph? Did I hurt you? I’m so embarrassed…” 

He shook his head frantically. 

“No, no, it was-” Her face was so wide and open. How could he tell her, that he knocked her over in his hurry to avoid her and get to the pub as swiftly as possible? All of that would come out, he had no filter with her.

“It was what?” 

“Nothing. It’s fine. I’m- I’m glad I was here to catch you.”  
Liar. Well, yes he was glad he was there to catch her but no it wasn’t her fault at all and this is exactly why he’s unfit to be a priest and be a moral compass. 

“You’re quite the Godsend Joseph.” She teased. He couldn’t hide the grimace that crossed his face. “I can get up now, though you are terribly comfortable.” 

He realized her bum was still resting in his lap. His face burned further. 

Her face fell at his discomfort. He felt even worse. 

“I’m sorry.” She mumbled to him, struggling to remove herself from his lap. He was of no help, any movement made resulted in further tanglement of limbs and her falling back where she started. 

She giggled. He could feel a smile tugging at his lip, threatening to split into a grin. 

Her hands came to his shoulders and he gave a start. This contact was getting close, too much. 

“Sorry, just- hold on.” Her hands grasped at his shoulders and she pulled herself up. Had his shoulders always been so slight?

She brushed off her skirt and extended her hand. He placed his palms on the ground below him and made to push himself up off the floor. A well-practiced routine on this street especially. As well practiced as the fall back onto his arse again. His eyes closed at the familiar spill and debated if this was better or worse than the normal fall into his own vomit or piss. Though Belle was here to witness this, so maybe the shame was worth it in the dead of night where her blue eyes weren’t on him.

Her hand grasped the top of his. He looked up again to see her face smiling down. His hand of its own accord curled around her hand and she gave a small tug pulling him back up onto his feet.

“There you go Joseph.” She patted the dirt down off his shirt. He let her do as she pleased. The sooner he passed her inspection the sooner he could carry on and spend the rest of the day forgetting this embarrassing ordeal. 

“Can I offer you a cup of tea?” She asked. Her eyes were locked into his and he was drowning. Drowning in that warm friendly blue glow that slammed into him like a wave and he couldn’t swim. 

Say no. 

She doesn’t owe him anything. She doesn’t have to offer him tea because he’s such a prat that he almost killed her on a ladder going to a bar to get wasted in mourning of losing his life because of his need to go to bars. His head was throbbing and the no was forming in his mouth but her eyes filled him and yes poured out of his lips of their own accord because maybe he did owe her the company for a small cup of tea and the bar would be waiting down the street when they finished or maybe he could add some whiskey to his glass to get the day going but instead she just asks him if he wants cream and sugar and they are there in the small kitchen in her apartment above the library and how did he get here? 

He was in the chair by her small wooden table, his fingers working the cloth worryingly. 

She placed the warm mug before him and took the seat across from him. She held her cup in two hands and took a deep breath of the steam. Did she use that cup to torment him during their tea? A reminder of his klutzy behavior, the chip glared up at him from between her fingers. 

“Joseph?” He picked up his tea and took a sip. It was too hot. The resulting gulp was painful, the water searing down his raw throat and making his eyes tear. 

“Yes?” He managed to choke out. The teacup rattled as he placed it back down on the table. He needed to get a grip or he’d break this one too. 

“We’ve been, friends, for a while now. Right?” 

“Of course.” He rushed that out too quickly. Another sip should fix that. Still too hot.

“Good. Good.” She blew across her cup. 

He shifted. Was she going to tell him he was a mess? Scold him for his drinking. Reveal that she knew perfectly well where he was going this morning and tell him how disappointed she was in him. Express that this was exactly why she stopped going to church so many years ago because men like him felt they were good enough to lead people to spiritual salvation when all he could do was lead himself to the bottom of a glass and to the floor. Should he say something before she had the chance? She looked nervous. He could spare her this if he could just talk. 

Another flash of slightly cooler but still hot tea slipped down his throat and he coughed. 

“I was wondering…” 

Here it comes. His judgement would come from her. 

“If you were alright?” 

He choked again, there was no tea as an excuse this time. Just wide eyes and slack jaw. 

“I’m. I’m fine.” He didn’t know if he should grab the cup for another sip or place his hands in his lap or maybe on the table or perhaps to cross on his chest-

“It’s just. Forgive me for saying this. You don’t look good.” 

He couldn’t remember the last time he felt good. Let alone looked it. Of course she wouldn’t think he looked good anyway. He was too thin, too small, too unkempt, hair too long, too greasy, his teeth yellowed and crooked, his nose too large-

“I mean you look ill. You- you always look good I mean. You just. Look unwell.” 

“I’m, very tired.” He confessed. His eyes showed it, dark bags circling eyes that should very well be yellow because why hadn’t his liver failed him yet?

“If you wanted to talk about it, I’m here for you. I just wanted you to know. Or you could talk to Archie if that made you more comfortable. I’m-” Her hand reached across the table and held his, the one resting by his teacup. “I’m worried about you.” 

Oh God. Tears began to build in his eyes. She was too much, she really was. He wished she’d just yell at him and tell him what a waste he was. Instead of soothing him with her words and the soft caress of her thumb rubbing soothing circles on his rough hands. 

“Joseph.” She breathed. She looked as if she had more to say.

“They dismissed me.” The words were out in a rush. Her hand remained on his, but her eyes shot up. 

“They?”

“The- the church. They- well it’s Laicization- and-” A sob came out. He wanted to pull his hand away from hers but her fingers tightened around him. “And they’re done with me. Because I’m a drunk. I’m washed up. I can’t lead people. I can’t love God because I’ve devoted myself to another and I can’t say no to it. I’m not strong enough, I was going to have a drink when I bumped into you and made you fell and then I lied about it because even if you already knew the kind of man I was I didn’t want to see you know- that disappointment when you see me staggering down the street to the pub hungover from the day before.” 

He took in a gasp of air, she looked like she wanted to speak but he couldn’t let her. 

“Christ Belle, I don’t have anything. Even God has left me here to rot because I’m not worth it anymore. To see you disappointed as well, I can’t bare it. I can’t bear any of it because I’m not strong enough.” 

He sobbed loudly, his cries wracking his body as his head came down and pressed into their joined hands, tears and a now runny nose dripping. 

“Even now all I can think of is leaving here and going for a drink.” He coughed and rubbed his face into her hand. 

“I’m sorry Belle. I’m so sorry.” 

He grasped at her hand. He should release it, let her go. Let her send him back outside so he can continue to his destiny. The bar stool at the end of the row was waiting for him. 

He felt her move, but his hand was reluctant to release her. 

He should though. 

With a last squeeze he released his hold on her hand. 

He wouldn’t lift his head up though. He’d find a way to crawl to the door before he would look up to see her blue eyes staring down at him.

He felt a weight pressed over him. Her free hand relieved her other which then looped around his back. Her face buried into his hair as she placed a soft kiss to his temple. 

He cried again. 

Let his sobs shudder through him as her arm rubbed his side. 

Her presence both soothed and guilted him. He didn’t deserve her. Or this. That made him cry harder.

He ran out of steam eventually. Emptiness crept into his weary form and his emotionally buzzed brain was calling to the door and down the street. 

She kissed his temple again. 

“I have something to tell you.” 

He rolled his head to the side to take her in. 

She was crouched next to him, her eyes were welled up with unshed tears. 

He sat up. He could listen to this. 

The last confession he’d ever hear. 

A confession about him. 

Before he could enter self-deprecating assumptions on what she would say, she began. 

“I had stopped going to church before we met. As you know.” 

He nodded meekly. 

“I didn’t want to tell you why, because I didn’t want to hurt your feelings or discourage you on your first day in town.” She stood briefly, and pulled her chair around the table and next to his.

“I didn’t really get anything out of church as a kid. It was always going through the motions to please my parents. But when I moved here, I was still attending because it was what I did.” 

She sighed. He mentally urged her to go on, but remained silent. His posture again rigid. 

“I still wasn’t getting anything out of it. And confession wasn’t helping. Prayers weren’t. I felt terribly guilty. How could I be like this?” 

He wanted to tell her she was perfect anyway. He swallowed it down. 

“I realized something that Christmas though.” Her hand found his again. “I realized that, just because church and homilies worked for some people. Didn’t mean it worked for me.”

She exhaled deeply. 

“I mean, and I’m sorry, I don’t know if there is a God. I don’t know what religion or thing is right. But I kinda figure, if I do the best I can and there is a God maybe he’ll direct me anyway?” 

He was dumbfounded. And he didn’t understand. He understood her. But he didn’t understand what this meant for him. 

“I’m trying to say. Maybe if God is out there, maybe he’s trying to tell you that you weren’t meant to be a Priest?” She looked nervous, as nervous as he did. He closed his eyes. He thought of his life. Everything he did to study for the Priesthood. Everything he did during. Would this make his entire life a lie? 

“What else can I be?” He almost didn’t realize the words slipped from his mind and out of his mouth. 

“I. I haven’t finished my confession yet.” She shifted in her seat. 

He let himself face her fully. If she could be brave, he would try too. For her. 

“I was thinking. That what you could be…” She looked to her feet.

“I’m just going to say it.” She seemed to be telling herself more than him. He could feel his heart hammer in his chest. 

“I love you.” He stopped breathing. His heart stopped, it crawled into his throat and plummeted into his stomach and his blood roared into his ears. 

“I’ve loved you since you first came into town. I loved you when you came up for a cup of tea and you chipped my teacup and when you came to the library to read for the kids, every time you would come visit for tea and a chat, when I saw you walk from the church down the street. I loved you when you were hungover and tired in the morning and needed a cup of coffee to get going down at the diner. And I love you now.” 

He wasn’t moving. She bit her lip and met his eyes. 

“Maybe you weren’t meant to be a priest, because you were meant to be with me.” 

Tears escaped her eyes. Those deep blue eyes that were screaming at him to move, do something, anything. Kiss her, push her away, hold her, never let go, run away, anything. Just do something. For once in his life he needed to do something. 

She sniffled and stood. No no no, sit back down, his mind roared. 

“I’m sorry.” She turned away from him and headed to the kitchen. “That was selfish of me. I shouldn’t have- I shouldn’t have said anything.” 

The chair hit the floor and he was standing. He was there standing behind her and his hand hesitated above her shoulder but he knew she could sense him standing there in his limbo and his brain needed to decide what his body and heart already had. 

His lips were on hers. The image of her surprised face etched into his mind as his lips pressed into hers and her tongue met his lips and he opened his mouth. It’d been so long since he’d done this, but she was there in his arms and she coaxed his tongue with hers. It was the most perfect moment he’d ever experienced. 

She was pulling him by the hand, and he was gliding behind her. Into her room, to her bed. 

And he was sprawled out on his back. And she was sliding up him, leaving burning kisses in her wake. They seared him even through his clothes. She was beautiful. 

She loved him. 

He was loved by someone. 

He loved her. 

He had someone to love. 

Her fingers ran through his hair and he closed his eyes at the sensation. 

“I don’t want to pressure you.” She whispered into his ear. 

“You’re not,” He exhaled. 

“I want you to be ready. And to want this. I can wait.” She had stilled above him, her breath tickling the edge of his ear. 

His arm wrapped around her back, and his hand rested on her shoulders. He smiled and kissed her cheek. 

“I love you.” He could feel her smile into his neck as she let out a small laugh. “And I’m ready.”

She took his hand and moved it to his collar. 

“I’d like to be the one to ‘disrobe’ you,” she teased. But her face grew serious. “But I think this should be you.” 

His fingers grazed the collar. It was tight around his neck. He wanted to breathe again. He was amazed how something that once represented his adoration for his faith became a true cllar for him. Did this happen to everyone? Was he being tested now? 

He closed his hand around the collar and felt its crisp edges. 

No. This was not a test. This was letting go. 

He loved God. And he trusted now, in this moment, that he was doing the right thing. That this was what he needed. He needed love. And he needed her. Not just for tonight. 

He started to pull. She put her hand on his. 

“It’s forever.” She smiled and kissed his knuckles. “With me anyway, we’ll take it a day at a time.” 

He ripped it off and kissed her. She responded with as much enthusiasm and worked at his buttons. 

His chest was exposed, and before he could feel self-conscious she began placing kisses down. Opening the shirt more to reveal his pink nipples, she took one in her mouth and began swirling it with her tongue, releasing it with a pop. He groaned. She kissed further down to his pants, making quick work of the buttons. 

The relief he felt was immediate. His cock was already swollen and throbbing. Belle slid his pants fully off, while he raised his bottom up to assist. When his pants came off he quickly sat up and finished pulling his button shirt off. He remained in his briefs, his cock clearly straining within them. 

She crawled back over his lap and pulled him to sit up. She moved her arms over her head. 

“Joseph, my shirt.” He snapped to it, pulling her shirt over her head and tossing it to lay with his. 

She pulled his hand to the lining of her panties and hooked his finger into the band. He gave a slight tug and slowly pulled them down. She helped him pull them off and he held them in his hands and brought them to his nose. 

They were damp and they smelled so HER and all he wanted was to breathe this scent forever. He imagined pushing her down on the bed and bringing his face to her opening. Smelling her up close before feasting on those lips, putting his large nose to good use so it could help stroke her with his tongue. 

She had other plans.

She pushed him down again softly and helped him remove his boxers. His cock sprang upward, pre-cum already dripping from the tip. She licked her lips at the sight of him. 

“You don’t have to.” He whispered. He was afraid. He would disappoint her and not last. 

“Shh…” She soothed him. “I want to.” She sensed his discomfort though and assured him. Her breath was tickling him and it was pure pleasurable agony. 

“We have forever, don’t forget.” He closed his eyes as they rolled back because her mouth was around him and oh God! The things she was doing with her tongue as it slid down his shaft and to his balls which were tightening a the sheer thought of what she was doing to him. His hand came down and stroked her head. Coaxing her. And finally stopping her. 

She released him with a pop and licked her lips. Her eyes were hooded and he’d never had a woman look at him quite like that before. 

She licked back up his chest and came to sit just over his groin and he could feel how wet she was as her lips rubbed just above his ready cock. 

“Are you ready?” He sat up and kissed her again. When he pulled back she lifted herself and slowly lowered herself onto his cock and his gasped and hissed as he felt her walls envelop him and she flexed this muscle and her walls moved around him and he was almost done then. 

She began to rock over him. Up and down over his cock which was slick with her wetness already and he was groaning. His cries were growing louder and louder and thank goodness hers were as well. 

He didn’t want her doing all the work, that was his last coherent thought as he started to rock with her which elicited a scream from her. Encouraged, he pumped faster and harder and she screamed louder and louder and he’d never felt so good in his life. He was sitting up wither her now as she rode him and he sucked on her neck and under her ear and he was moaning into the shell of it and her eyes rolled back and he felt her walls shudder around him and he’d done it. He lasted and he came after her. A load spurted out of him and he let out an animalistic roar and if she was wrong and this was a sin he didn’t give a shite because this was worth it and they would do this again and again as many times as they liked because she loved him and he loved her. 

And he told her this over and over into her ear as he attempted to whisper and she smiled into his neck as she finished coming down from her orgasm, which he hoped was the best she’d had. If not it was something to work on. 

He collapsed onto his back, bringing her with him. 

He held her on his chest and kissed the crown of her head. 

“I love you Joseph.” She murmured and she fell into a post colitis slumber. 

“I love you too, Belle.” And he followed her into a deep sleep. 

He didn’t make it to the bar that night.


End file.
